Janey was sitting in front of her dressing-table. Clad only in a brassiere and a pair of frilly panties, she was engaged in rolling up one slim leg a black nylon stocking.
“You’re early, aren’t you?” she asked, without looking up. “It isn’t half-past six yet.”
He pushed the door shut and wandered over to the window. It no longer gave him any pleasure as it used to do to see her like this.
“I have to go away for a few days, Janey. I’m leaving right now.”
Janey gave his broad back a sharp glance as she fixed the suspender grip to the top of her stocking.
“Oh. I suppose I’m not included. Where are you going?”
She reached for the other stocking, her mind suddenly busy. A few days. What exactly did that mean? A week — ten days? She felt a sudden hot flush sweep over her body. Would it be safe to ask Louis to come here? she wondered.
“I have charge of two important witnesses,” Conrad said, turning to look at her. “They have to be kept under cover until the trial. The D.A. wants me to look after them.”
She adjusted the seams of her stockings and stood up.
“What on earth for? Since when have you become a nursemaid to witnesses?”